


Varian Alone

by Cate_9xBlue



Series: Rocks, Wolves, and the Moon [6]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: But also not, Disappearance, Flashbacks, Gen, Memory Loss, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Mystery, Sad Varian (Disney), Set during my version of season 2, Werewolf Curse, Werewolf Varian, he doesnt know where anybody is:(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29840748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cate_9xBlue/pseuds/Cate_9xBlue
Summary: The last thing Varian could remember was the fiasco at the Great Tree, and the horrible lonely feeling that dwelled after.Apparently, that was four months ago.
Relationships: Cassandra & Varian (Disney: Tangled), Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Varian, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel, Lance Strongbow & Varian, Rapunzel & Varian (Disney), Varian (Disney) & Original Character(s)
Series: Rocks, Wolves, and the Moon [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000689
Comments: 21
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And so it continues...

* * *

  
Varian woke in a four poster bed. His eyes opened slowly, tiredly. Stared at the ceiling. Everything felt… numb. And not in an emotional sense. His body was drained and uncomfortable, arms and legs prickling with that asleep feeling. He groaned, turning over, only to pause halfway. A bed?

He peered around him, taking in the small room he was in. It was quaint and lived in, a little on the rustic side with the small fireplace in the corner. He was in a house. 

He hadn’t been in a house for months now. 

Panic building, he sat up, before being knocked back down by a feeling of sheer exhaustion. His body was fighting his every movement, weighing him down. 

What was going on?

Huffing, he turned onto his side, staring out a window. The sun was about halfway across the sky, meaning it was probably midday. From what he could see, the trees were lush and green, edging toward beginning to change color. It was warm, comfortably so. He was only covered in a thin quilt, with his bare feet sticking out on the end. 

He was dressed in clothes that weren’t his. They didn’t look like Eugene’s, either, or Lance’s for that matter (although he doubted he’d ever be able to fit in anything he owned). Pressing a hand against the headboard, he sat up again, slower this time, and rested his back against the wood. He let out a sigh, staring across the room. Framed pictures hung on the wall, with paintings of strangers he’d never seen before. 

The door opened with a creak, and an old woman stepped inside, seeming surprised that he was awake. 

“Oh!” She exclaimed, making her way over. Her silver hairs were pulled up in a loose bun, with the occasional streak of dark pigment left behind. She was shorter, wearing a blue dress with an apron. She withdrew something from the pocket of the apron, holding it out to him. “So glad to see you up, dear.” His eyes crossed to see what she had so close to his face. His goggles. Carefully, he accepted them, pulling them over his head and letting them hang around his neck. 

“Where am I?” He asked, running a hand through the hair that felt a bit longer than he normally kept it. “And, sorry if this is rude, but who are you?”

“Sylvia,” she provided sweetly. “And this is my home. I figured you’d appreciate the roof over your head.” At the way his brow furrowed, she extended a hand. “Why don’t we take this out into the kitchen? You look like you could use a meal or two.” Still frowning, Varian complied, getting up on his own and kicking his legs over the edge. He was dressed in someone’s nightshirt and a pair of shorts, and nothing else. His feet looked dirty, like he’d taken a leaf out of Rapunzel’s book and given up on shoes altogether. The were covered in callouses and sores, and when he set them on the floor they ached. 

Exhaling through his nose, he eased himself up from the bed, keeping one hand against the headboard. Sylvia was right about one thing: he definitely looked hungry. He was thinner than he remembered, and while it wasn’t enough to cause concern, it still worried him. How long could it have been if he had lost weight?

He followed after her, limping a bit as his legs groaned in protest. His broken leg was entirely healed, now, without even a scar left behind. The skin was clean, if not a little hairier than he remembered. As he walked behind her, he could have sworn he was taller. 

“Here you are,” she said, waving a hand toward the small table in the kitchen. He sat down in the seat as though dropped, knees smacking against the underside of the table. Sylvia traveled about the kitchen unbothered, retrieving something off the stove. She set a bowl of soup in front of him, then went back to get something for herself. “You got a name?”

“Varian,” he said, lifting the bowl to his lips as his stomach rumbled. She hummed, returning with a mug between her hands. 

“Not everyday I find a young man sleeping in my yard,” she began, sitting in the other chair. “What’s your story, Varian?”

“Um…” Varian glanced out the window again. What _was_ his story? He certainly couldn’t recall sleeping in anybody’s yard. The last thing he remembered…

_Green glow, screaming, eyes like pools of tar._

The Great Tree. The incantation… he’d passed out. Rapunzel had insisted she use it to save Cass. He hadn’t been too keen on the idea, after what had happened when she’d used it earlier, but he’d understood her decision. Anything to save Cass. He regretted not stopping her from touching that spear in the first place. It had been terrifying, watching the tree snatch her up and force its way into her head. He’d been restrained in the vines he was tangled in, lifted up along with her and thrown onto the ledge with the others. His aunt and uncle had both fretted over him, trying to keep him back from the fight, but when everything started to get heated they’d been separated. He’d been right by Rapunzel’s side, when she sang the incantation and everyone else was reduced to their knees. That sick feeling had returned, but so close to the source, it had come on faster and stronger. 

He was out before he even hit the ground. 

And after that was just... nothing. It was like he’d blinked in the Great Tree, and when he opened his eyes he was here. 

“Do you know anything about the Great Tree?” He asked carefully. He figured, she must be a local, if he was here in her house. The vague recognition in her eyes told him he was right. 

“That giant tree that used to be down in the valley? Sure, I’ve seen it. Everybody’s seen it- it was huge.” She took a long sip from her tea. “Saw it come down, a few months ago. Was out in my yard when it happened, tending to the chickens. Startled them real bad.”

“Oh- wait, a few months ago?” He frowned at her, cupping his bowl with his hands. “What do you mean, a few months ago?”

“It was about four months ago, if I remember correctly,” she explained. “The whole thing just-“ She mimed an explosion with her hands. “Collapsed. A shame, it was beautiful when the sun rose over it.”

“You have to be mistaken,” he argued, heart leaping to his throat. “It… it couldn’t have been more than a few days ago.”

“No, honey, I’m sure of it. Some people have already come to try and salvage things. It was always rumored there were treasures and relics inside, but no one went near it because of its guardian.”

_Hector._

“Most think he went down with it, since he hasn’t been seen around lately.”

Something in his stomach twisted, clawing at his heart, but he ignored it. That wasn’t possible. His uncle had been with his aunt. They’d made up (temporary truce, they’d called it, but he counted it as a win). And he’d been with all of them. If Varian was fine, so was he! Right?

“Has anyone else been through here?” He asked, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he hadn’t seen anyone else since waking up. If he was missing _four months_ of time, what had happened to the others? What had gone down in that hole in his memories? _Why_ did he have a hole in his memories??

“Not that I know of, sorry.” She frowned at him, setting her mug down. “Do you have family?”

“Yes,” he replied automatically, because they _were_ his family. Rapunzel, Eugene, Cass, and Lance. Aunt Adira and Uncle Hector. He loved all of them. And there was a gaping hole left in his heart not knowing where they were. “Yes, we were traveling together. They have to be around here somewhere.”

“I’m sorry, Varian, but I haven’t seen anyone.” She watched him deflate, fingers tapping against her mug. “How about we head into town? You can ask around there. And I’ve been meaning to pick up a few things, anyways.”

“How far away is town?”

“Just a few minutes. There are a couple smaller farms along the way, then town is where we sell our wares. I’m sure someone must have seen your family.” He nodded, standing abruptly. 

“Thank you.”

“There should be more clothes in the closet in that room,” she said kindly, gesturing toward the door. “They were my son’s, but he’s long since moved away. They seem to be your size.”

“Thank you,” he repeated, hurrying back into the bedroom. The closet was built into the wall, and was filled with muted colors. It reminded him of his closet in his own room, before Rapunzel had insisted on giving him an entire new, royal tailor-made wardrobe. 

His heart twinged. If it had been four months since the Great Tree, that meant it had already been a whole year since they’d left Corona. A whole year since he’d been in his room, in his house. A year since he’d seen his dad. 

He shoved the thought aside, grabbing the first shirt his hand brushed against and grabbing the brown trousers from their pile. Once changed, they needed a belt, hardly able to hang around his bony hips, but the shirt fit well enough tucked in. Length wise, though, they fit perfectly. For the brief moment he was shirtless, he got a good look at the scar on his shoulder, already faded and pale. He also noticed that he was able to count his ribs. 

Yeah, maybe _that_ was cause for concern. 

The shoes were far too big, so he elected to just continue without them. His once soft feet were already ruined and rough, so he thought, _might as well_. He glanced in the mirror long enough to return his goggles to their rightful place on top of his head, only to get distracted. He’d been right. He was _totally_ taller. 

He still looked relatively the same, aside from the out of cut hair and the more hollowed out look to his cheeks. They were still youthful, and would be rounder if he hadn’t apparently skipped a couple meals. He had a healthy complexion, though, so he wasn’t in any danger. If anything, the skinniness only served to make him look even taller, like he’d been stretched out. 

Although, he was sure he was just being dramatic. He’d long ago given up on any sort of growth spurt in his life. Especially after his uncle had told him his mother had maxed out at the height he’d been at _14._

He smoothed his hair down with both hands, making a face in the mirror. There was an excess of freckles across his nose, like he’d had a tan or sunburn at some point before it faded away. What did that mean? Had he just been outside for the last four months? 

He had _so_ many questions. 

Groaning, he rubbed at his face with his bare hands. He still missed the feeling of his gloves over his hands, even after so long without them. Without them, he felt smaller, more exposed. With a sigh, he tucked one hand into his pocket and walked back out the door, meeting his host where she was already ready by the door. 

As they exited her house, he got a good look around. He’d been right, he couldn’t remember _ever_ being here before. It was reminiscent of his own house simply because it had farmland on both sides of the path leading from the house, with a chicken coop to the right and a field of vegetables to the left. The path itself wound down a small hill into the nearest forest. From where they were now, he could see a valley in the distance, where he could only assume the Great Tree used to be. It filled him with a sense of dread, seeing the lack of it after spending so much time inside. 

The forest itself didn’t help that feeling. The moment he stepped into the threshold of the trees, he felt whispers in the back of his mind. The wind caressed the back of his neck, teasing what could easily turn into a chokehold. A shiver ran down his spine, eyes darting from side to side. Something dark had happened within these trees. 

_Varian,_ a voice whispered, echoing in his ears. 

He walked faster, hands clamped over his ears. 

_He just hoped he hadn’t been a part of it.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lonely wolf boy tries to make a new friend. 
> 
> It doesn’t go quite as well as he’d hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for all the Big Sad I’ve been giving y’all, here’s a chapter of Varian being an adorkable nerd and an idiot, all at once. 
> 
> (Also some mild gore, but that’s, y’know, irrelevant.)

* * *

Nobody. Nobody had seen them. Even Rapunzel, someone he was _certain_ people would remember if they’d seen, wasn’t someone anybody recognized. He was turned away at every corner, dismissed with an apologetic shake of the head or a judgemental scowl. One man had thrown something at him, mistaking him for a thief and screaming at him before he could even open his mouth.

And so he’d gone back with Sylvia. She’d offered him the room again, and, seeing as he had no other options (unless he wanted to go back to living outside) he accepted. He made sure to help her out with some work, because he wasn’t a _freeloader,_ but he still felt bad. Here he was, staying in a place with a roof over his head and food, when he had no idea where any of his friends were. 

One loss weighed particularly heavy on his mind. _Ruddiger._ His best friend. They’d been together through everything, for several years now. He was always at his side no matter what. He hadn’t abandoned him when he’d started obsessing over the Black Rocks, or when he disobeyed his dad and experimented on them, or even when he’d gotten himself turned into a giant, terrifying _monster._ Ruddiger was loyal, and loving, and understanding, and…

And _gone,_ just like everybody else. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he mumbled, sitting on his haunches and fiddling with the gloves Sylvia had given him for yard work. “I just… I miss them. I miss them a lot.”

The chicken, predictably, didn’t answer. 

“I don’t know what happened, or where they went,” he continued, ignoring the distinct lack of understanding in the bird’s unfocused gaze. “They could be anywhere! I mean, if we were separated, do they even know where to find me? What if they just left me behind, and figured _eh, we’ll pick him up on the way back!_ ” The chicken shifted its eyes almost judgmentally, catching his gaze with one of them. 

Sighing, he fell down into the grass, staring at the sky. The sun was partially blocked out by imminent rain clouds, promising a much wetter day’s work tomorrow. The light pressure on his chest premeditated a face full of bird, going in to peck at his nose. He caught it before it could, lifting it up a safe distance. 

“I can’t just keep thinking of you as _Chicken,”_ he decided, sitting back up and setting the animal on the ground. “How about… Roosterger?” The chicken just pecked at the dirt, and he mentally kicked himself. “A bit too on the nose. And scientifically inaccurate, seeing as you’re female.” He rolled over so he was on his stomach, hands at the ready in case she took a stab at his face again. “What about just Roo?” The hen continued on, ignoring him. Nodding to himself, he patted her head, sitting up again. “Yeah, that works.”

“Are you talking to the chickens, dear?” He looked up, finding Sylvia walking towards him. Her hands were on her hips, but she wore an amused smile. Sheepishly, Varian rose to his feet, lifting the chicken in his arms. 

“They’re good listeners,” he insisted, only to drop the poor bird when she started flapping in his hands. “Sometimes.”

“They’re stupid,” she stated matter-of-factly, regarding the hen with a slight frown. “But if it helps you, then you’re welcome to.”

“Sorry, I’m just used to having an animal to talk to.”

“Used to have a dog?”

“Raccoon,” he corrected, feeling the cool air at the back of his neck, a place that used to be covered by his friend’s warm, fuzzy body. 

“Ah. So you’re used to the more unconventional pets.”

“He isn’t a pet,” he said softly, reminiscence flickering across his face. “He’s my best friend.” His heart ached, once again mourning the absence of everyone he cared about. “At least he… he was. I don’t know where he is, either.” 

“...sounds like you’ve got a lot of people waiting out there for you,” Sylvia surmised, watching him with a sympathetic, pitying look. It just made his skin crawl. He _hated_ pity. 

“I sure hope they are.” He turned back to the rest of the chickens, twirling his thumbs. “Well, I’ll just get back to work, Ma’am.”

“You could take a break,” she suggested. “I can start lunch.”

“That’s quite alright,” he assured her, scratching the back of his neck. “I, uh, I like the work. Takes my mind off… things.” She nodded in understanding. 

“Then I’ll stop distracting you,” she promised. “But I _will_ come get you for food eventually, so be warned!”

“Thanks,” he chuckled, watching her go. Once she was back inside, he kneeled down beside Roo, running a finger over her feathers. “I don’t think you’re stupid, girl.”

In a swift movement, she clamped down on his thumb, easily ripping through the flimsy old glove and breaking skin. He hissed, pulling away and clambering back onto his feet. He tugged the glove off, holding his throbbing thumb aloft. It wasn’t a deep cut, by any means, but the action still wounded him. He looked back down to the chicken, hurt and betrayal playing over his face. He opened his mouth, about to question this breaking of trust, when his eyes locked onto the cut. A drop of blood beaded at the end, innocently dripping down his thumb. He’d gotten a bit better with blood, so his automatic reaction wasn’t to faint, but he still winced. Red dropped down from his skin and hit t _he_ _grass-_

_-in a puddle. There was already so much of it, with more steadily flowing from underneath her poor attempt at concealment. Varian turned pale, staring at his friend with wide, terrified eyes._

_“Cassie?” Hazel eyes locked onto his, and the entire campsite fell silent. Cassandra’s faint complexion whitened, face drawing into a grimace._

_“Varian!” She cried, stepping forward. Her eyes fell to the abrupt end of her arm, hidden beneath the bloodied towel. “I, uh- d-don’t look! Varian, don’t look!”_

_“Wha-?” His mouth turned dry, staring at the scene before him. “What happened?” He took another step forward, heart hammering in his chest. “What happened?! Are you okay?!?!”_

_“I’m fine!”_

_“You’re not fine!” Rapunzel shrieked, intercepting her friend. “What were you thinking?! Your arm!” The princess held her hands over her mouth, looking sick. “God, Cass, why would you do that?!”_

_“I had no other option!” Cass insisted, tucking the still flowing wound closer to her stomach. “It was infected! It was my arm, or all of me!” Her eyes flicked back in his direction, and the arm was moved out of his line of view. “Varian, turn around.” But Varian didn’t listen. He stayed right where he was, staring at the droplets as they fell to the ground, then catching something further back. A blackened shape, vaguely resembling..._

His knees smacked against the hard dirt, sending a painful jolt through his body. Harsh gasps blew in and out of his lungs, eyelids fluttering. The world rotated around him, sending his brain into a frenzy. His stomach roiled, images of blood and severed arms flying across his vision. His own arms (blessedly intact) wrapped around his abdomen, body swaying forward until his forehead pressed against the cool grass. _It wasn’t real. There wasn’t any blood, or swords, or sliced body parts._

_But there had been._

He didn’t move, keeping his face in the grass and letting his brain calm back down so he could think properly. That was vivid and clear, like it had happened just now. And it couldn’t have been a dream. He never dreamt in that much detail, unless it was a replay of some memory. That… that had to have been a memory. Cass’s face, Rapunzel’s panicked voice, it was all so clear. 

He kind of wished he could re-erase that from his mind. 

Slowly, he sat back up, hands digging into the dirt to steady himself. His arms trembled beneath his weight. He took a deep breath, blinking and staring at the green blades. The cut on his thumb was already healed, with nothing but a light smear of red by the nail. 

So… so he _did_ still have his missing memories. They weren’t gone, just- buried? Hidden? Difficult to access. 

If everything he’d missed was like that, did he want to know more?

_Yes,_ his subconscious insisted. _For them. I want to know what happened to them._

Inhaling shakily, Varian straightened a bit, holding his hand out in front of Roo. 

“Do it again,” he ordered. The chicken side-eyed him almost judgmentally, and he prepared himself with a wince. But all she did was peck at the bare skin, beak harmlessly gliding over the unblemished area she’d pierced before. He pushed his hand further into her personal space, nudging her face, but she just turned away to peck at the ground again. “Come on!”

He sighed, tucking his legs under him. _Fine._ He’d just have to do it himself. He drew his hand back towards him, holding it up to eye level. Opening and closing his mouth nervously, he lowered it a bit, resolutely refusing to rethink anything. He opened his mouth again, and fangs slid down in response, catching in his skin as he clamped down on the appendage. 

He let go immediately, holding his hand out as his face scrunched. 

“FUCK! _”_ He yelled, hissing in pain. 

_“Language!”_ Rapunzel’s voice chastised in his head, memorized from a million times before. 

“Shit!” He waved the hand about, trying to curb the throbbing left behind. The fangs had shrunk back again, but he could taste the blood left behind on his teeth. There was a modest amount coating his hand, oozing out of the bite mark left behind. 

But as the seconds passed, nothing came. No resurfacing memories or deja vu. Nothing but pain, hemophobia, and a growing sense of absolute idiocy. 

_So, that didn’t work._

“Varian!” Sylvia came hurrying down the path, looking startled and worried. She came to a halt in front of him, staring at the wound. “Boy, what the _hell_ happened?”

Varian stood, holding his hand to his chest protectively. Eyes flicking between the bite and his hostess, he blanked. 

“Ummm,” he hummed, licking the blood on his teeth behind his pressed lips. His gaze fell to Roo, innocently waddling around the grass. “The chicken. She bit me.”

He cringed under Sylvia’s skeptical look. 

“A _chicken?”_ She asked, not at all looking fooled. “A chicken did _that?”_ She pointed a bony finger at the bleeding wound on his hand. 

Varian just shrugged. 

“I’m just as surprised as you are.”

The look she gave him reminded him so much of Cass that he almost laughed (and cried- the thought of any of his friends honestly made him want to cry at this point.) She rolled her eyes, waving her hand over her shoulder and walking back up the path to her house. 

“Come on, kid,” she sighed. “Let’s patch you up before you bleed out on the lawn. I’ll have to have a serious talk later, with the _chickens._ ”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he mumbled, hurrying after her. He kept his eyes low, watching only her retreating feet to keep up her pace. Heat rose to his cheeks, coloring them as he let his bangs hang over his face. She probably thought he was insane. 

_And he was no closer to knowing what had happened to his friends._

She sat him down at the table again, leaving him on his own while she went to fetch the bandages. The bite had stopped bleeding, already starting to stitch itself back together underneath the drying layer of red. He stared down at it, images of what he’d seen flashing through his head. Cass, hurt, and Rapunzel, furious. 

She’d cut it off herself, then. 

And an infection, she’d said. At some point between the Great Tree and that memory, she’d gotten hurt badly enough that she needed to amputate her own arm. Even an arrow to his shoulder hadn’t made him need something that drastic (nor would it have if he healed at a normal rate.) It had to have been something _bad._ And, considering the fact that his second most recent memory of her was under a demonic tree’s mind control, that could have been any number of really bad, terrifying things. 

If she’d been that bad off, how were the others? Rapunzel had been fine, from what he could tell, but the memory hadn’t lasted long enough for him to see anyone else. They could all be hurt, or _dead…_

_No, it was impossible._ Cass and Rapunzel wouldn’t have had the (albeit scarce) level-headedness to have that argument if everyone was dead _._

...but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have all died _after._

He shifted his gaze out the window as Sylvia returned, bandages in hand. He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t afford to, right now. 

Because if all of his friends were dead, where in the world did that leave him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boy is starting to figure things out. 
> 
> And he’s also not. He’s also doing stupid things, like biting himself and talking to chickens. It’s gonna be a long fic, if he keeps this shit up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As things come to light, everything starts to make even less sense. Varian reaches a breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has different vibes than the other ones, but it’s kinda cool. 
> 
> Part of it is kind of classic monster movie style, and I’m a nerd, so that excites me.

* * *

  
Varian dragged his feet as he walked, eyelids drooping. Sleep hadn’t been coming easy to him (had it ever?), lately. The volatile cocktail that was his immense worry regarding the wellbeing of his friends, and the brief glimpse of his memories he’d gotten, meant he was plagued by graphic nightmares nearly every evening. Most were just replays of that damned memory, of Cass cradling her bleeding stump of an arm and Rapunzel screaming in an uncharacteristically shrill panic. Sometimes, his mind took creative liberties and added a couple things, like chopping off Rapunzel’s arm as well, or leaving Cass dead on the grass. 

Sleep definitely wasn’t his favorite thing right now. 

He was in town, today. He’d volunteered to go shopping for Sylvia to make up for the scare a couple days ago. In his honest opinion, the woman had been incredibly charitable, all things considered. She was on the older side, getting on in years and still staying on top of all the responsibilities involved with having a farm, and now she’d added watching after a hormonal, cursed, emotionally compromised teenager to the docket. 

Kudos to her for being a damn saint. 

He had a little basket hooked over his right arm, with his left holding onto the small change purse she’d given him. It was just groceries today, along with a couple things he wasn’t familiar with. Just ingredients and food, she’d said. He got the occasional odd look, whether from someone who thought it odd he was on his own or someone who judged him for his less than stellar appearance. He knew he probably looked like he was homeless. His shirt was still rather baggy on him, even after he’d started eating more, and his feet were perpetually covered in a layer of dirt. He mostly just kept his head down while keeping an ear out, always listening for something, _anything_ that might help him find his friends and figure out what happened. 

And, to his surprise, he actually heard something today. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” a man was saying, lounging on the side of the street with a few others. He recognized them as the other landowners in the area. One of their farms wasn’t too far from where Sylvia lived. “Wolves. Spooked my sheep something awful.”

His steps came to a halt. 

“But there’s no evidence of a pack in the area,” another insisted. “We’ve looked. No dens, no tracks. And the damage wasn’t bad enough for it to be more than one.”

“It really is bizarre. We’ve never had a wolf problem in these parts, before.”

Varian approached the nearest vendor and started examining their produce, keeping his face hidden in his bangs. 

“Just started a month or two ago,” the first said. “And none of it’s typical, either. The wolf ain’t killing nothing, just spooking the livestock. Craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve seen it!” A new voice piped up, and Varian’s eyes wandered back to the group. A younger man had joined them, eager to be included in the conversation. “Twas just a little thing!”

“A little thing managed to scare all our chickens and sheep?”

“Couldn’t o’ been nothin more than a puppy, I’d say,” he continued, undeterred. “But there was somethin weird about it. It had this… this _look_ in its eyes. Almost looked too smart to be an animal.”

“When’d ya see it?”

“Couple weeks back.”

“Yeah, well, it seems to have vanished since then. Past week or two, I haven’t had any trouble with it.”

“You don’t suppose it’s left?”

“Couldn’t tell ya. I’m surprised it was even here in the first place, if it’s all alone. Wolves are pack animals. Not meant to be on their lonesome.”

“You gonna buy something or not?” Varian’s focus snapped back to the booth, and the increasingly impatient woman running it. 

“Sorry,” he rushed out, handing her a couple coins and taking what he needed. “Have a nice day.” She just grunted in response, and he shuffled away, gears turning as he went over what he’d just heard. 

That… that could have been him. The timing lined up well enough. Showed up a couple months ago, disappeared around the time he woke up on Sylvia’s farm. He could have been wandering around the woods for the first couple weeks, if he only came around here later. But it didn’t sound quite right. He’d heard enough from Rapunzel and the others to know that his other self was quite large, and wasn’t easily mistaken for a regular wolf. And a _puppy?_

Well, that was just insulting. 

“New wares everyday!” A young man stood in the middle of the street ahead of him, ringing a bell obnoxiously in people’s faces. “All sorts of strange knick knacks! Come on in and take a look!” Varian ducked his head again, attempting to slip past, but a hand snagged his wrist. “You there! Kid! You look like you wanna see something cool.”

“I’m not a kid,” he grumbled, pulling his hand out of the man’s grip. The stranger just gave him a fake pout, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Very well, young man. Then perhaps you’d like to see something a bit darker? We have new products in, today. Found them out in the woods.” Varian rolled his eyes, glancing toward the door to his shop. 

Something in his chest twisted, whispering for him to go inside. He tapped his foot impatiently, trying to look away, but curiosity got the best of him. 

“Fine.” 

“Excellent!” The man extended the bell, ringing it in the direction of the door. “Then just head on inside!” Varian ducked around the arm and reluctantly walked toward the shop, pushing the door open. He gave it a tired once over, taking in the weird lighting and the candles burning in the daytime. 

A gimmick if he ever saw one. The atmosphere of the place gave him the same vibes as that woman at the Science Expo, all those months ago when the biggest thing he had to worry about was shady contest judges. 

Sighing through his nose, he stepped into the threshold. There were shelves covered in odd bobbles and things he guessed were supposed to be mystical and impressive. There were windchimes hanging from the ceiling and dreamcatchers in the window. There were a few mannequins with an assortment of bizarre outfits on them, and the one on the end…

Varian froze. 

“Ah, interested in that piece?” A woman came up behind him, presumably from behind the counter. She wore earrings longer than her hair, hanging down to a bit below her shoulders. “Just found it recently. A real eye catcher, huh?”

Varian stepped forward, one hand halfway outstretched. His fingers brushed against the familiar material of the coat his aunt had given him, eyes wide with disbelief and dread. 

There was blood smeared across the front of it. 

“See there?” The woman asked, pointing a thin finger at the clasp of the coat. “That’s the same symbol worn by the guardian of the Great Tree. Some believe it may be one of his- but I don’t think so. It’s not his build. Who knows what the story behind it is!”

“Where did you find this?” He asked in a hushed voice, fingers ghosting over the smears. The blood wasn’t from within the coat. It looked like someone had rubbed it against the front. Like someone had desperately tried to wipe off the blood coating their hands, dripping between their fingers. 

His hands lined up perfectly with the marks. 

“Just a little ways into the woods!” She explained cryptically, still in sell mode and not at all noticing the shifting emotions in the boy’s face. “It was snagged in a tree. We left it in its original condition- see? You can see the tears along the collar, right here.” Her hand reached to point it out, and a smaller hand clasped around her wrist. 

_“SHUT UP!”_

_A pained cry. Slick substance sliding down his fingers, dripping to the ground._

“It’s mine,” he said harshly, pinning her with a dangerous glare. “I’d like it back, please.” The woman’s kind demeanor dropped, face morphing into a scowl. She scoffed. 

“It’s for _sale,_ kid. I’m not gonna hand it over without payment.”

“I’m not asking,” he snapped, pushing her hand away. She _hmphed,_ reaching out again. 

“Listen here, you little twerp-“

“BACK OFF!” He rounded on her, eyes swallowed in a red glow, and she stuttered to a halt. He growled threateningly, baring growing fangs, and she screamed, scrambling back and away from him. As quickly as the fury had overtaken him, it retreated, and he felt a horrible dread wash over him. _Oh no._

As the woman ran outside, screaming to anyone who would listen, he snatched the coat off the mannequin and darted for the back. He held it bundled in his arms, with the coin purse and the basket buried within. His eyes darted about, searching frantically for an exit. The front door burst open behind him and he forced the window open, climbing out and taking off in a run. 

_  
No._

_  
No no no no no._

  
What had he done?!

He sprinted for the trees, hurrying between them and into the cover of the lush green. Behind him, he could hear shouts and yells, people searching for him. He hopped over a log and winced, bare feet getting caught on sticks and pine cones. It stung, but the thought of getting caught was far worse. 

Events he remembered very vividly had shown him that nothing good ever came from strangers knowing what he was. 

As he ran, he looked over his shoulder, trying to gauge how far of a gap he had between them. He couldn’t see them anymore, but he could still hear them. Maybe they thought he’d gone a different way?

His foot slipped forward and he yelped, falling off a small drop off on the forest floor. He went rolling, roots and small plants biting his skin and leaving tiny cuts. He hit the bottom with a _thud,_ crying out, before clamping a hand over his mouth. He kept it there, ignoring the stinging itch of the cuts and trying to listen for his pursuers. 

He couldn’t hear them anymore. 

He exhaled shakily, curling in on himself. _Idiot._ He was such an idiot. He _knew_ to be careful in public. This was why they’d avoided towns during the beginning of their journey, until he finally had control over himself. He was _supposed_ to have control over himself! It wasn’t even a full moon, and he was a wreck!

He whined, burying his face in the material of his coat. 

A hissing sound broke him out of his pity party. His head snapped up, arms flying to prop him up. His eyes grew wide. 

He’d fallen right into the clearing where the caravan was. 

It was right by a long extinguished fire, still waterlogged and broken. Vines hugged the sides and grass covered bits of the wheels, with spider webs between the spindles. 

His breath caught in his chest. _Everything was still here._ They couldn’t have left without their things. Everything was just… abandoned. 

The hissing sounded again and his attention shifted to the broken wheel of the caravan. A set of beady eyes were staring at him from behind it. 

Varian crawled forward, head held close to the ground so he could get a better look. 

“Ruddiger?” He whispered, heart leaping in his chest. “Ruddy, is that you?” He reached a hand toward the wheel and a paw swatted it away. The raccoon crawled out from under it, tail standing straight up. His fur was dirty and frizzy, making him look more brown than gray. He looked terrified. 

Varian felt like he might be sick. 

“Rud,” Varian pleaded, holding his hand out. His best friend hissed again, backing away a step. “Ruddy, please. Please, it’s me. It’s Varian.” The raccoon snapped his teeth, nearly nicking the boy’s fingers, and Varian flinched back. Tears gathered in his eyes. “Please, buddy. I missed you so much. Please don’t hate me.” Ruddiger didn’t budge. 

Varian felt himself dissolve into pitiful sniffles, tears dribbling down his cheeks. Everything was just _too much._ His friends were gone, the only place he had to go was now no longer an option, and his best friend hated him. A cry escaped his throat and his hand drew back to his chest, knees tucking into himself. He dropped his head between his legs, arms wrapping around them. He really did feel like a helpless little kid, without anyone here to guide him. 

As Ruddiger continued to watch him warily, he cried, muffled in the fabric of his pants. 

“I- I want my dad,” he whimpered, hiccuping. His fingers dug into his pants, eyes squeezed shut. “ _I want my daddy!_ I- I want my-“ He sobbed, clenching his teeth. 

But no one came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry! The boy is tough, he’ll get through this! Actual answers are coming next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> You thought you’d get to see what happened next so soon? HA. Fools.


End file.
